


Friends with a big 'F'

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Love Confessions, MCU Kink Bingo, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 19:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17772890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: Her relationship with Fitz has been a source of comfort and joy even since her Terrigenesis, but now that they got Jemma back from Maveth, Daisy thinks it's time they set things straight. Fitz agrees, only that he is not on the page she thought he was.





	Friends with a big 'F'

**Author's Note:**

> This fills the "Friends with benefits" square in my [ MCU Kink Bingo Card.](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/181941155716/my-askbox-is-open-if-you-want-to-send-me-prompts) I'm accepting prompts for it on[ my Tumblr](http://florchis.tumblr.com/ask) or here! (Let's make a merry femslash february!) It also fills the Valentine prompt I got from [ @quakeriderwritersguild](https://quakeriderwritersguild.tumblr.com/): Fitzdaisy + "Just shut up and kiss me".
> 
> Rated T for language and mentions of sex.
> 
> Fair warning: there is a fair amount of mentions of Fitz's feelings from Simmons since this doesn't diverge from canon until around mid-S2, and because Daisy is convinced that Fitz is still in love with Jemma. Just thought to throw it up there in case it might upset someone.

She does not remember much about their first time, except for how much their hands were shaking.

She will never ever tell Fitz because it would make his confidence plummet to the floor before she could explain to him that it probably is because she was way too focused on the way her own hands where misbehaving, and not so much on his own.

It is really a shame that she can not share that with him because, to her, that image embedded on her mind means mostly that when they were both struggling, at least they got to struggle together.

* * *

She had noticed Fitz’s interest in her during day one. She wasn’t daft, but she was way too busy with finding herself in a new place and with a new purpose on her life, while also fulfilling her lifelong one, and settling with the family she never dared imagine she could have. And there also were Ward’s abs, she is not gonna lie.

His was a short-lived crush anyway, or so she thought. Then the whole trainwreck debacle with Simmons happened, and when Fitz turned his puppy-dog eyes on his best friend for ten years, well, it only made sense, if you asked Skye. She was just glad that she didn’t have to go through the painful process of turning him down, and wished he would come to her for advice, because dear god, did he needed a friendly hand.

And then everything went to hell too deep and too fast.

Ward’s betrayal on one hand, of course, and the way that crack on the picture-perfect team made everyone else fell apart, and somehow May turned out to be the only reliable of the bunch. Coulson was purposefully hiding from her, Simmons had left and Fitz… wasn’t Fitz anymore.

(Daisy is not proud of the way she used to think about him, back in the day. But there is nothing she can do to change the past, now. The only thing left is to make amends with him and try to be kind with her past self for her future self to be better.)

She was too busy mourning an idealized version of her best friend to realize that the flesh-and-bone version of her best friend very much needed her. She had also noticed that there was an enormous amount of tension between Fitz and Simmons once she was back, but that was more of a reason to stay away and let them sort their shit. Sort… themselves.

It wasn’t until she needed him that she realized that he was, at his core, at the things that mattered, the very same guy that had walked with her to the edges of hell and gave her his only gun.

The world was a mess around her, Trip’s death and its circumstances had turned her previous life into shattered mirror pieces, each of them giving back a different, distorted image of herself, and none of them was the one she believed she was.

That one, she only found it on Fitz’s eyes.

While everything she knew was- quite literally- shaking apart, he and his faith on her were the only things that she could still trust.

They were going behind everybody’s backs, whispering theories and hiding evidence, and she could not be blamed for looking for a way to sublimate the adrenaline and the panic, and for the only way she found to be kissing him.

She kissed him, and his hands went quickly to her cheeks, holding her in place, tethering her down to the world.     

And then, shaking hands.

* * *

The next morning, she gave him a lopsided kiss on the corner of his mouth and patted his messy hair into some resemblance of order.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, right?”

Fitz didn’t reply, and she left.

* * *

It might have broken their friendship, this messy way of not solving problems by creating new ones, but she was taken away, and then when she was briefly back there was _Ward,_ and her mending relationship with Simmons, and then a war, and then.

They didn’t get a moment alone since after she had dropped off her dad and Simmons had been taken away, and Fitz came to her with bloodshot eyes and a crooked sweater vest.

She felt like she could sleep for a year, but she let him in any way.

They didn’t talk about Simmons while he kissed an imaginary line from her chin down to her navel.

They didn’t talk about her parents while she opened carefully every button of his shirt.

While he was stroking her hair softly, she did say, “I am Daisy now.” Fitz nodded solemnly and kept on pushing her hair back with careful fingers.

His hands didn’t shake, this time.

* * *

If shaking hands were all she could remember from the first time, her very own words from the morning after followed her like a curse.

For six months, Fitz put his life and his heart on the line in his search for Simmons.

For six months, Daisy put to test her new powers and reached out to every kindred inhuman she could find.

For six months, he came back to her and she opened up her door and let him in in more ways than one. For six months, they grieved together and found solace in each other. For six months, he soothed every one of her fears and she kissed every one of his tears.  

For six months, her own words felt like a brand on her skin, even more powerful than his hands, sizzling against the skin of her neck.

_It doesn’t have to mean anything._

* * *

She has learned to love him a long time ago- that “long time ago” can be counted in a two-figures amount of months, but it does feel like ancient times- when they were two scared children out of their depth and trying to do their best against terrible odds.

There has been a lot of water under the bridge ever since, and the sex is good, the sex is great- both in objective, general terms and in terms of what she needs right now-, but she cares more about everything else: the quiet evenings of him reading Hebrew laying by her side, the way his hand always finds its way into her hair, the way he knows where she likes to be kissed most, and how he knows without a word when he better let her blow up steam in the gym and come back later.

She has grown fond of him, in a not-so-friendly way, and though they have never put this relationship into spoken terms, she is pretty sure they are… naked friends. Fuck buddies. Friends with a big ‘f’. Isn’t he, after all, looking for the love of his life? Of course, she is mature enough to understand and take advantage of the fact that him being in love with someone else doesn’t mean they can’t share this.   

After all, it doesn’t _have_ to mean anything.

But what if it does?

* * *

(How do you cope, when it does mean something, but only to you?)

* * *

Thing is, they don’t talk about Simmons. It is too painful, both because a missing friend is never a pleasing topic, and because it feels like a spine plunged on her heart.

It is shameful, and she hates it, because Simmons is her friend, and Daisy is devastated over her loss. And even then, how can a person that is not there, that might as well be dead, spark such feelings of jealousy and envy?

She knows that what they have can only be temporary, because either they will get Simmons back, or Fitz will kill himself trying.

Daisy is not proud of the way she feels about it, but it is what it is.

There is no tragedy in it because it is just life.

* * *

And then they get Simmons back.

Daisy is ecstatic to learn that her friend is worse for the wear but  _alive,_ and that tiny part of her that whispers poison on her ear at the rhythm of _oh, well, you can say goodbye to him now_ can certainly choke.

She is not one to believe in fate if she can help it, but she does believe that the Universe is balanced, in a way. If her relationship with Fitz is what they had to pay to get Simmons back, so be it.

* * *

She gives him a day and a half before the anxiety gets the best out of her. Fitz has barely left the lab or Jemma’s bedside, and she waits sitting in the kitchen counter to ambush him when he is going for a midnight snack.

(She refuses to think about how she knows that he does that, and at what time, exactly.)

She has her whole speech planned, she does not want to have to hear him struggling to get rid of her in a gentle manner, but with the undeniable subtext that she is, in fact, disposable. She has never been good at waiting to take a punch, she’d much rather throw the first one herself, even if it means it is not her best one.

This whole mess wasn’t made out of ill will, and she knows it, so she will tell him that she understands and that they can still be friends, and she hopes with all her heart to not be lying.

“Hey, Daisy. Long time no see.” His smile is tired but sincere, and that melts her heart a little but not enough to not move her face away when he goes for a kiss on the lips. He looks a bit confused, but he still embraces her in between his arms, and Daisy can not shy away from that without making a big fuss. “Was hoping to catch you around soon.”

Ah. So he was already hoping for the moment to cut her off. Better to rip the bandaid now, deal with the inevitable pain and move on with her life.

“How is Simmons doing? I will try to see her tomorrow, didn’t want to overwhelm her too much.”

Fitz beams at the mention of her name, and Daisy’s heart makes a painful twist.

“Please do. She will appreciate it a lot. She is in bad shape, but getting better every hour. She is a tough cookie, that one.”

Daisy nods and kicks her legs in the air, her eyes fixed on her knees while Fitz hums around with the kettle. He seems comfortable with the silence, and Daisy musters up the courage to take the leap.

“Hey, Fitz? I just wanted you to know that, um, there are no hard feelings, you know, between you and me.”

He looks at her, head tilted to one side. Daisy bites her own tongue and it tastes like ashes.

“Why would there be hard feelings?” The kettle is whistling too loudly behind him, and Daisy stretches her arm to put it out. Fitz takes the opportunity to grab her wrist; he holds it in between his both hands, with a gentleness that should be destined to a better cause, and Daisy won’t be crying in front of him, but she definitely wants to. “There is something you want to tell me, Daisy?”

“You are gonna make me say it, uhm?” Her tone is more bitter than even she expected, and he looks put off by it, but not enough to let her hand go. “I am sorry if I am ruining your carefully crafted plan to dump me gently, but there is no need for that. What we had was great and everything, but now that Simmons is back, I know that-”

Fitz frowns.

“What does Jemma have to do with anything?”

Daisy pulls her hand away, and he lets it go, his arms falling at the sides of his body.

“Um, everything?” There are already tears at the corners of her eyes, and she is not sure if they are sad tears or angry tears because he is being so obtuse, but either way, she promised herself she wasn’t going to cry in front of him. “You are in love with her, and if you want to move forward with her, no, _scratch that_ , it doesn’t matter what does or doesn’t happen between you and her, I am sorry, Fitz, but I can not play second fiddle for her, not when she is _here,_ and I know that you-”

“I am a moron.”

All this time she has been watching her hands, clasped on the knees of her jeans, spitting word after word without even breathing; they were not shaking, and that is good, but her knuckles are white with how tight she is holding them. She raises her eyes in surprise when he interrupts her. He is holding one palm against his forehead in a dramatic gesture, and now is her turn to frown.

“What do you-?”

“Apparently I am the worst communicator in the world.” He moves to grab both her hands and Daisy looks down at the four hands together feeling like she is going a little unhinged. “Daisy, I am not in love with Jemma.”

Wait, what.

“Wait. What?”

His eyes are big and sincere when she looks into them, and that is a look he has cast onto her many times before; it is at the same time awe and affection, and Daisy writhes in discomfort at the force of it.

“I am not gonna lie to you- there have been, um, conflicted feelings during the last couple of years. I _had_ feelings for Jemma, romantic feelings, or at least I thought they were romantic. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now.” He squeezes her hands gently, and Daisy realizes she has been gaping at him, so she closes her mouth. “But time passed, and you and I reconnected, and things _happened,_ and, well, I don’t need to tell you the story, I think. And I love Jemma, I will always love Jemma. But that doesn’t mean I am in love with her.”

She waits. She waits for the other shoe to drop, she waits for him to tell her that it was all a joke, or to forget it, or anything else that proves that this is not happening. She waits. But Fitz stays unwavering, his eyes fixed on hers, a small, hopeful smile on his lips, and something starts to blossom inside Daisy’s chest.

Though there is still a small spine pressed to her side.

“Why, um, why you didn’t say anything before?”

“Because I am a moron?” He lets go of her hands to move one of his own to his neck, and Daisy misses their warmth immediately. “You know me, Daisy, I wasn’t exactly sure if you felt the same way, and I didn’t want to propose you with something more serious while my mind and energy were focused on bringing Jemma back. I wanted to be fair to you, and only now I realize that in doing that I ended up being selfish, because I was taking and taking without offering you any reassurance in return.” He inhales deeply, and when he exhales, he looks more centered and calm; Daisy wonders if he took secret lessons with May along the road, or if he copied the tip from her. Either way, it warms her heart. “Do you think you can forgive me, and, um, officially move this forward, if you want?”

“Yes. On one condition.” Her reply comes out so quick and certain that it stuns him, and Daisy takes advantage of his dazed state to hook her feet behind his knees and draw him closer. “Just shut up and kiss me, you big ass nerd.”

He looks like he is about to retort something, but Daisy grabs two fistfuls of his shirt and slams his mouth against hers. The kiss is safe territory, something they have learned to love and cherish together, but laced with that coziness and their shared exhaustion there is an undeniable giddiness. The kiss is at the same time old and new, and it opens an untravelled path full of possible discoveries that she can not wait to explore with him.

Fitz presses his forehead against hers when they break apart, and even though his cheeks are flushed red and his lips are starting to look puffy, he still dares give her a teasing smile, “I can not believe all this time you thought I was just screwing around with you and not… being utterly in love with you, Daisy.”

Daisy snorts, “Well, in your defense, the screwing around _was_ kind of really good…”

Fitz rolls his eyes at her. “Ugh, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Hey, that was my line!”  

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Prompts
>   * Image reactions
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> This author replies to comments (but it might take a while). If you'd rather not get a reply, please add *whispers* to your comment.



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